


hope torn apart (but still it remains)

by hope27



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Episode 2x20, F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope27/pseuds/hope27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers from 2x20.</p><p>After the events in episode 2x20, Oliver must find the strength to keep fighting; the hope to see through the darkness that threatens to overwhelm him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hope torn apart (but still it remains)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey guys! So it’s been how many days and I STILL have feels over that last episode. This time it came out in an Oliver POV. A bit of inspiration was taken from the promo for the next episode but I totally went my own way with it, as you will see. Thanks to anthfan for looking it over for me.
> 
> I was blown away with your response to Wounded Hearts and am still making my way through those reviews and comments. Thank you SO MUCH - it means so much to me to read your feedback! *hugs* to you all.

He was numb. Cold and numb and unseeing as he stood before people he barely recognized. Familiar faces dotted the crowd on the unusually overcast day - a chill in the air that settled deep into his bones.

His voice was hoarse, his body one tight line of muscle, teeth grinding together as he fought to keep control of the emotions swimming below the surface.

As he forced words from his tight throat, he skimmed over the faces of the mourners, never focusing on anyone because none of them knew the truth. None of them knew his mother - perhaps he hadn't even truly known her. But he was sure of one thing- she had loved him and Thea, and she'd willingly given up her life to protect both of them. 

That moment was seared into his brain. Another nightmare to add to the ones gained on the island. He could never escape, never outrun the time he’d spent there. It always caught up to him. The darkness always seemed to win; clammy, cold hands dragging him back into their clutches just when he thought he could feel the warm of light on his face. That dark voice in the back of his head taunting him with the fact that it was his past deeds that had brought this on his family; his failure to kill Slade time and again.

Thea and Walter sat stoically in the front row, the Lances minus Sara behind them. He looked through them all. Darkness clawed at him, wound through the crowd and snaked into his very soul.

It was the glimpse of blonde hair that stopped his eyes from roving. A bright glint of golden light in the otherwise drab and dark day.

For the first time, he made his eyes focus and found familiar glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she gazed up at him, her eyes wide with concern and heartbreak. He could almost feel her reaching out to him just by the way she was looking at him- wanting to comfort, to hold, to help. _Always._

He sighed, letting his shoulders drop as he stared into the peaceful blue and found the strength to continue, the darkness pushed back as her light reached out to him, and he felt the tingles of warmth on his skin.

Once he found the strength, he glanced at Diggle who sat by her side, face impassive but the look in his brother's eyes was one of a man who knew loss; who knew the battle was still to be fought and won and who would fight to the end by his side.

His team. His partners. His family in every way but by blood. They gave him strength. They gave him hope - that hope that the island had tried to drain him of for five long years. The hope that seemed non-existent for years on end, until he returned and he found them.

He choked on his last words, vision blurring but he never removed his gaze from them, Diggle's solid strength and Felicity's comforting warmth. 

When he was finished, he walked back to his seat with heavy feet, not feeling the cool breeze that blew through the trees or the sympathetic glances that followed him. 

Looking down he saw his hands fisted at his sides, knuckles dangerously white. He stared until a familiar touch at his shoulder caused him to suck in a deep breath.

Tipping his head to the side, he caught sight of dark green nail polish gripping his heavy wool coat, gentle but firm pressure.

One by one, he willed his muscles to relax, staring straight ahead, eyes on the flowers that adorned the polished wood. Slowly, he unfurled his fingers taking measured breaths as someone else spoke to the gathered crowd.

His hand felt heavy and unlike his own as he lifted it, his fingers finding her own, grasping them tightly, her warmth sinking into his cold skin.

Thea sat unmoving next to him, her eyes trained ahead of her. She hadn’t spoken to him in days - her eyes held a betrayal that ran so deep it cut open new holes in his heart each time she gazed at him. She blamed him; blamed whatever it was that they hadn’t told her.

Everytime he’d tried to reach out after that first night, she’d moved silently away, retreating into her own world of heartache.

Each time he felt a little more of his world crumble around him.

As if sensing his wandering thoughts, Felicity’s fingers flexed against his own, a soft movement that brought him out of the darkness he was descending into once more. 

Through the rest of the funeral, her hand never left his shoulder and his hand never left hers.

_______________________________

Long after the guests had left the formal gathering back at the mansion, she found him again. He’d escaped, unable to face the prying gazes and sympathetic looks for one more second. 

His body was on constant alert, Slade’s last words ringing in his head as he’d walked away from his mother’s lifeless body, changing his world again forever.

_There’s still one more that has to die._

He expected Slade around every corner. He hadn’t slept since that night, nightmares and terrors waking him whenever he drifted off. 

Felicity had found him more than once barely clinging to consciousness as he fired round after round into the walls, arrows missing their mark because he could barely keep his eyes open. 

Thea was never alone. Diggle made sure of that. When she wasn’t at the club where Oliver could watch her, she always had a shadow, much to her annoyance but it was one thing Oliver wouldn't concede on and for some reason she didn’t fight it too much.

The first night, he’d sat up and watched over her as she slept in her bed, back propped against the wall in her room, ready to fight off anything for her - real or imaginary.

This time, he was in the Foundry, sitting against one of the concrete supports. His bow was at his side where it had dropped after he’d fired the last of his arrows into the targets. Each one hitting their mark until the last one which had missed wide and he’d blanched, anger and fear twisting inside him until he had turned around and punched the concrete at his back.

His bloodied hand rested in his lap, his knee still aching from the fight with Roy that seemed like lifetimes ago. He was worn, beaten, and he’d never felt quite this defeated.

He didn’t hear her come in; didn’t hear her quiet footfalls or the rustle of her skirt until she was crouched at his side, her knees on the cold, hard floor as she took his injured hand in hers.

The alcohol stung, but he barely flinched. The warmth of her fingers slowly soaked into his skin and he became more aware of his surroundings. His eyes focused on the top of her hair, bright in the darkness of the Foundry. Her glasses were perched on her nose, her eyes concentrated on her work. 

The angle of her head and the shadows cast from the dim foundry light helped him see the dark circles under her own eyes that she’d tried to hide with make-up. She’d been around as much as she could, constantly working on her searches and at her computers, digging through whatever she could and in continuous contact with her friends at STAR labs who were working on the cure. 

As she dabbed ointment onto his knuckles, she let out a soft sigh, blinking heavily and he thought he saw a few tears leak down her cheeks.

A vice tightened around his chest and he reached out his other hand, tilting her head up so he could see her face.

Surprised eyes fluttered up to meet his, but she didn’t try to hide her pain or concern.

He released a deep breath, some of the ache easing in his chest as she tried to give him a soft smile, even through her own tears. She was worried - worried about him and Thea and the team. But even in her worry, she still had hope. He could see it behind the furrow of her brow, and the troubled expression. She still believed and he soaked up that belief and held on to it, held on to her until he could start to believe it again for himself.

When she was done, she shifted, rising to her feet, his hand falling from her face back to his side. Gently tugging on his hands, he took the hint and pushed himself to his feet, leaving his bow behind.

Without a word, she led him to the couch tucked in the back of the Foundry. He sank into the cushions with a soft press from her hands. He fought the pull of exhaustion, knowing what awaited him in his sleep, but her fingers tightened around his as she sat beside him, silently letting him know she wasn’t leaving - that he wouldn't’ be alone.

With a long, deep sigh, his heavy eyelids fell shut as his head rested against the back of the couch and then rolling to the side until he could breath in her floral scent, soaking in the comfort it brought him.

Her fingers twined with his uninjured hand and he held on tightly as sleep consumed him, knowing she’d fight off any darkness that threatened his dreams.

 

_______________________________

 

Three days after the funeral he found himself back at the cemetery. His chest tightened as he stared down at the newly-engraved headstone. Not twenty feet away, Tommy’s grave lay- both reminders of how he’d failed to protect those he loved.

His hands shoved deep in his pockets, he stared at freshly packed ground, silent apologies running through his mind. Various scenarios ran through his head - everything he could have done differently to prevent this from happening. White noise whirred through his ears as he stared at the name etched into the stone, his teeth grinding together as he bit back the emotions threatening to crawl out of the box he’d pushed them into that night.

He should have stopped Slade years ago on the island when he had more than one chance. But he hadn’t. He’d believed he could help his friend - the man who had called him brother - but Slade had become a monster who had never truly left the island.

The wind rustled the leaves in the trees and he let himself sway with it, wondering what would happen if he just let himself fall right there and never get back up.

But then he thought of Thea and Diggle and Sara and Felicity…

If he didn’t fight; if he didn’t try, what would happen to them? He couldn’t let one more person pay for his mistakes. His mother had given her life so that he could live and fight and carry on.

He just wasn’t sure how to do that. He’d walked around in a daze the past few days, making himself numb to the world around him, waiting for the inevitable final blow from Slade. But he knew Slade wouldn’t make it that easy. He’d draw it out, wait until he his mind had been stretched to it’s limits and then strike. 

The noise whirred through his head and he blinked against the heavy weight that had settled over his shoulders and cloaked his heart.

He felt her before he saw her; sensed the shift in the air around him and almost smiled that once again she’d found him. Of course she’d found him. She always would. She’d proven that time and again.

Her hair was down out of her normal ponytail, wind blowing it softly around her face when she came into view beside him. The vice around his heart seemed to ease as she stepped closer, the white noise abating until he could almost hear birds chirping in the distance.

In her hands, she held a bouquet of white lilies and he watched in awe and gratitude as she laid them at the base of the tall headstone. 

The white flowers stood out against the grey day, a blossom of hope even in the darkest time. Just like her.

He reached for her then, his hand blinding grasping for hers, and clamping around her small fingers.

She shifted closer until her sleeve brushed against his and the ends of her hair danced across his face as the wind picked up speed.

His head fell forward as the last of his numbness fell away at her touch and he let himself truly feel since that night at the side of the road when his mother fallen and he’d followed suit, shutting off every emotion in order to simply continue to exist in a world where he kept losing people he loved; where the darkness never seemed to be completely defeated.

A shuddering breath left his mouth and his shoulders shook, heaving and gasping sounds crawling from deep in his chest. All the pain and guilt rushed over him, consuming him in a tidal wave of emotion that left his knees buckling as he fought to keep upright.

He didn’t feel her move, but suddenly, she was wrapped around him, her arms snaked about his waist as she held onto him tightly. Her fingers ran up and down his spine and before letting one hand delve into his hair as she lifted up on her tiptoes. 

He focused on pulling in deep breaths, his lungs burning with each inhale and exhale. Soft fingers landed on the nape of his neck and gently tugged, pulling his forehead to her shoulder as his hands found her hips before winding around her back and crushing her to him.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that but slowly, the pressure in his chest lessened as his breathing evened out. Her soft puffs of breath against his neck stirred something deep within him - kindled that light that hadn’t yet been snuffed out and fanned it to life again.

With each exhale, he released the grief that had numbed him and felt his resolve strengthen, his determination grow. He had reasons to fight; reasons to not give up. One of the biggest and most important was wrapped in his arms. 

Slade had taken enough; he’d caused enough damage. It was time to fight and it was time to win.

There was no choice to make. He would fight. He had to fight. They would fight.

He lifted his head from her shoulder, but he continued to cling to her as he turned his face up into the wind and letting his cheek rest against her hair.

When he finally pulled back, she blinked up at him, her cheeks damp, wisps of her blonde hair clinging to her skin. He watched as her eyes searched his and then a slow smile broke out on her face, soft and gentle, but a fire alight behind the blue making them sparkle.

He gave her a slight nod, feeling that resolve and belief settle deep within his bones, pushing aside the weariness and defeat. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her temple and he felt her let out a breath of relief.

He would fight; for Thea, for Diggle, for her. For a future; one that he was starting to believe he could have. But first he had to banish the darkness, the last grips of the island that wanted to cling to him and swallow his hope and leave him with nothing. 

Felicity had always believed in him. She’d been the one to see the hero in him before he could even see past the villain. And slowly, he’d seen that man, believed he could become that man - that hero. He was Oliver Queen, but he was also The Arrow, and he would fight for his family, for his friends, for his city and for her. 

She’d held onto his hope, kept it alive until he could believe it and hold on to it once more. 

As he held her in his arms, he began to do just that - _believe_.


End file.
